Three Viewpoints
by Sevenstars
Summary: Free-verse musings by Slim, Jonesy, and Andy on what Jess's absence means to the household.


**Three Viewpoints**

_by Sevenstars_

SUMMARY: A little free-verse effort as Slim, Jonesy, and Andy reflect on Jess, and what he's come to mean to them, during one of his early absences.

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**Waiting (Slim)**

Funny how you get used to things—  
that rocker, for example.  
He kind of laid claim to it, early on, and now—  
now no other of us sits in it. If a passenger tries,  
Andy gives 'em the death glare—he's too polite  
to tell 'em to leave it, but they always do,  
soon or late. Like, somehow, they know  
they're trespassing.

Even the animals feel it when he's gone.  
Alamo frets for his stablemate, Chaps is restless,  
even the stage horses know somethin's wrong.  
The cats prowl around like tigers in cages,  
and Jojo yaps at things that aren't there,  
and Jonesy's donkey brays like Gabriel's trump  
and wakes us up better than the roosters can,  
every morning.

Andy, he's restless, worried and scared,  
lookin' up the road every half an hour,  
hopin' to see that starface bay  
and a black hat with silver cockles on the band,  
waitin' to launch himself into Jess's arms—  
sometimes I think I should be jealous.  
But I'm not.

Jonesy grumbles and growls over his cookin',  
crashes his pots and pans around fit to wake the dead,  
and complains how his recipes don't come out right  
without a half-starved Texan here, eatin' enough  
for three his size.

And me?

Oh, I'm the prize hypocrite, tryin' so hard to be strong  
and not to show how very much he's gotten under my skin  
since that first day.

I ride into town, and the first thing I do,  
soon as I can slip away from them, is check  
at the telegraph office for messages that aren't there—  
Bill would send 'em out by the first stage, if they ever came—  
and swing by the jail, and ask if there's been anything  
come along the lawmen's gossip chain—  
and there never is.

He can take care of himself, I know that.  
Better than most; Lord knows,  
he's had years enough to learn how.  
And I know he feels his obligations,  
keen as the blade of his own boot knife;  
know sometimes he gets to thinkin'  
it's not good for us that he should be here;  
and those are the times he rides away.

So we wait, all of us,  
and I watch Andy hoardin' stories of things he's seen,  
and questions he wants to ask,  
and Jonesy checkin' the supplies  
to make sure he can throw a big dinner together  
on no warning...

And me?

I don't sleep well for thinkin'  
what kind of mess he may be in now,  
and what I'll say to the rest of our family  
if the worst ever happens—  
'cause I know they expect me to take care of him,  
like I do of them.

Would, too, if he'd let me.

And every time I tell myself  
that next time either he lets me go along,  
or I'll deck him and chain him to his bunk...

No, I wouldn't do that. It'd kill him.

Just wish he'd let us know  
how he is, and what's goin' on...  
that he's still alive...

"_Slim! Slim! Jonesy! Look, it's Jess!  
It's Jess, he's home!"_

And none too soon for me.  
For all of us.

**Hard to Know (Jonesy)**

It's strange, the way one man  
can work so different on different people.  
Andy took to him, right off—I've watched  
that boy grow from a baby, I knew.  
Slim, he knows, I reckon, way down deep,  
that Jess might be the savin' of him,  
and him of Jess, only he's too blame stubborn  
to admit it yet.

And me?

Well, I'd have to confess,  
I wasn't sure of him, right at first.  
Been around a long time—seen plenty like him.  
Wasn't sure I thought too much  
of him bein' around the place—  
most of all around Andy, restless as he was gettin'—  
but still...

he's not the same as most of 'em.

I reckon Andy was righter about him than he knew.  
Boy's always had that gift, been able to tell things  
about folks—his ma was the same way;  
Matt depended on her instincts, many a time.

He's been good for 'em, both of 'em.  
Andy doesn't talk about runnin' off any more,  
and Slim's a little easier on himself,  
smiles more, seems to've remembered  
that he's not yet thirty, and doesn't need  
to be takin' the world's weight on those big shoulders...

He's not an easy man to know, Jess isn't.  
Doesn't talk much about himself, doesn't trust easy.  
And yet...

There's more to him than that fast gun,  
plenty more, even if he doesn't know it himself.  
There's courage, and loyalty, and honesty,  
compassion and generosity,  
and a hand with horses like I never saw...

and pain.

So much of it, I hurt to think about it.

I've felt him come up in his bunk, sudden enough  
to shake the whole thing,  
heard him gasp as he understands  
it was just a dream. I've heard him  
talkin' in his sleep. I've sat by him  
and listened to him, talkin' and cryin' out  
when his wounds get fevered. I've seen the scars,  
so many of 'em for such a young man,  
marks of a life lived too hard.

Thinkin' on it, I can't say I'm surprised  
he'd have gone the way he did;  
fact is, I'm more surprised  
that through it all, he held to that solid core of decency...

There must'a been somebody, somewhere in his boyhood,  
who gave him that.

And whoever it was, we're all grateful.

Whoever it was—are you hearin' me?—  
you can be easy now. He's found us,  
found the place he was meant for,  
and we'll help him all we can.

That's if he comes back from this last trip.

Wish he wouldn't keep takin' off  
like this; it doesn't do Andy  
or Slim one little bit of good, knowin'  
he might not come back.

Wish he'd at least keep in touch...

What's that? Andy hollerin'?

Well, I'll be. He's back.

Doggone well time, too, boy—  
doesn't it ever occur to you  
that you got folks at home carin' about you?

Must've been a mighty long dry spell  
since you had that last.

Hope someday, like Slim says,  
you'll trust us enough to tell us about it.

Better get out there and make sure he's in one piece—  
never saw anybody so likely to come home  
with a hole or two in his hide...

**My Best Friend (Andy)**

I remember, one time,  
not long before she died, Ma said to me,  
"It's a shame there's only one word  
for all the feelings we lump together  
as love. Love for your family, say,  
is different from love for your friends,  
or your country, or your home,  
your pets, your favorite pie,  
or the person you marry  
and the children you have.  
All those different feelings,  
and just one word to describe them by.  
Doesn't surprise me, Andy,"  
she said, "that men don't often say that word."

I didn't understand, exactly, then,  
but I was just a little kid,  
and now I'm twelve,  
and I think I know what she meant.

'Cause I love Slim—I do, honest,  
even when he's tryin' to be my father  
instead of my big brother.

And I love Jonesy,  
and Chaps, and Jojo, and the cats,  
and Sam, and all my other pets,  
and Ma and Pa, even though  
they're not here any more;  
and I reckon I love my country,  
though I'm too young to be sure of that;  
and I love _this_ country,  
these mountains and grasslands  
that've been my home as far back as I remember,  
though I wish I could go see other places too...

And I love Jess.

Like he was another brother.

And each of those loves feels different,  
here inside of me. And like Ma said,  
that's as it should be.

And yet, for all that, somehow,  
Jess is... special.

I remember that day he came home  
with Miss Essie's piano—how I just flew at him,  
and he turned and opened his arms to me,  
and I hugged him and held on  
like I wasn't gonna let him go again,  
not ever.

I remember hearin' his heart beatin',  
and how all I could think was, _you're home,  
you're home, oh, Jess, I'm so glad!_

Barely six weeks I'd known him then,  
and already I knew where he belonged.  
Here, with us,  
for always.

I wish he wouldn't keep goin' away.  
Doesn't he know this is his home?  
Doesn't he know we love him?  
Even Slim—  
he thinks I don't know,  
but I see how tense he is,  
same as he always is when he thinks  
that Jess might be in trouble;  
and I saw him comin' out of the telegraph office  
in town, just last Saturday,  
and why would he go in there,  
unless he had a message to send—  
and Jonesy and me would know, I guess, if he did—  
or thought there might be one waitin' for him?

He's worried. And scared.  
And wishing Jess would come home,  
just like I wish it.

I think about Jess a lot,  
even when he isn't gone; I guess  
he's probably my best friend.  
Maybe Slim should be, instead,  
on account of bein' my brother,  
but even though I love him,  
he's not.

And sometimes I feel just a little bit disloyal,  
and I wonder why that is.

It's not just that Jess is such fun to be with,  
and seems to understand better how it feels to be me  
(I wonder if he had big brothers?),  
or that he's been so many places  
and has so many great stories to tell,  
or that he's got so many things to teach me  
(Slim taught me how to rope, after all,  
and swim, way back),  
or even that I got to teach _him_ somethin'  
(who'd figure a man could get to be grown up  
and not know how to swim? Slim does).  
It's... that, somehow, I think  
he needs us.

That feels good, to know somebody needs you.

And I think about Jess, and I wonder  
how it can happen that somebody you never met before  
can get to be so big a part of your life  
in just no time at all.

Couple of years ago, I remember,  
Slim was tellin' me about a couple of Cheyenne braves  
that he knew before the war, when I was real little.  
He said they were "courtesy-brothers,"  
and when I asked what that meant,  
he kind of fumbled around in his head  
for a minute or two, and then he said,  
"We don't exactly have a word for it, Andy,  
not in English. But when I used to talk to them,  
I did it in Sioux, and there's a word in that.  
It's _hunka._ It means...  
well, sort of means—  
'chosen.' Or 'kin-by-choice.'  
That's what they were to each other,  
Thunder and Blue Eagle."

That's what Jess is to us, I reckon.  
He's our _hunka.  
_And home's not home  
when he's not here...

_Oh..._

_He's back!_

_I run to meet him, and he slows Traveller,  
and kicks his foot out of the stirrup for me,  
and I go up into the saddle,  
crossways in front of him,  
and hug him like that other day,  
hard as I can, like I'll never let him go.  
"Oh, Jess, I've missed you so much...  
I'm so glad you're home!"_

_His heart is beatin' strong and steady under my head,  
and I hear the smile in his voice when he says,  
"Yeah, Tiger. Me too. Me too."_

_I want to tell him I love him,  
but Ma was right, the word sticks in my throat,  
and all I say is, "You won't go away again,  
will you, Jess? Please don't go away again."_

_His arm goes around my shoulder,  
and he says, "Now, Tiger,  
you're old enough to know,  
a man don't always get to do the things  
he wants to do in life. Times I'll have to go.  
Won't have no choice, if I'm to live with myself.  
Same as just now."_

_But he just as good as said  
he doesn't want to be goin',  
and that means—_

"_But you know this is home, don't you?"  
"Yeah, I know."_

"_And you'll come back?"  
"Always, if I can."_

_And I know I'll have to be content with that,  
and bear it, and be a man._

_But he's still my best friend,  
and always will be.  
_


End file.
